They were miles away from each other, but a heat linked them as they spoke. She was reclining in her bed, ready to drift to sleep. Alone in his room, he was kneeling beside his own bed. She enjoyed the sweetness of it, knowing he was that way for her, and the similarity to the pose to that for nighttime prayers did not escape her.

Turned Into A Puppy For His Mistress“You know,” she purred, “I think I’d like a pet.”

“Really, Mistress?” he asked. It seemed like a bit of departure from their conversation. “You want a dog or a cat or something? I don’t see you as a fish kind of person.”

“Actually,” she mused, “that’s not really what I’m thinking. I want the best parts of all those pets. I like the loyalty and service of dogs. I like that a kitten might purr and be fun to play with. Hell, I even like how pretty fish are to look at, but you’re right – I want a pet I can play with.”

He smiled silently, his this thoughts racing as lips moved against the phone. “Well, it sounds like you know exactly what you want, Mistress. Do you know how are you going to get all this in one pet?”

“Silly boy. I’m going to get it the same way I always do: you’re going to give it to me.”

“Oh?” He was suddenly worried about how he was going to solve this particular puzzle to her liking.

“Yes indeed, slut. The pet I want is you, and you’re going to be the pet I want. Now, you may do your edging – no cumming tonight, sleep in something pink for me, and tomorrow I’ll send you something to get you started. Good night, pet.”

He was still in a confused shock when he spoke his good night, expressing his devotion, love and thanks.

It took him a while to get to sleep, and not just because of the physical throbbing of his edging and denial. His mind just raced, trying to guess at her intentions or plans, even while knowing the effort was futile. He was never able to approach or guess at the details of her wonderful wickedness. Finally, his mind swirling with possibilities, dressed in nothing but panties of pink lace, trimmed in ribbon, he drifted into a restless sleep.

He woke earlier than he would have liked, but it seemed like it would be a beautiful day outside, so he opted for a positive outlook. Before he completed his breakfast, an email from his Mistress arrived.

“The first thing a pet needs is a collar, and no collar is complete without a leash and a name tag.  You will go to a pet store today – as soon as they open- and purchase those items. The collar should be leather, with buckles for adjusting size and steel rings for the leash. You will hold it up to your neck at least once in the store, to test for fit. The leash should have a clip for your collar and a leather lead for me to hold. The tag should be engraved, stating that you are my property, but we will leave a blank space for your pet name, for now. I will expect you to have all these things by noon. Enjoy your shopping!”

He wasted no time in finishing up his food, cleaning it away and getting himself ready for the errand. His mind worked on him more than reality might have dictated, but then, it always did.

In the store, he was deliciously humiliated, holding the collar up, wrapping it around his neck, even though he’d spent at least ten minutes circling around, trying to guess how likely it was that he’d be observed in the nearly deserted store.  The experience of the name tag was similar. He had to pay in advance, but then he was on his own at a large pseudo-vending machine. He kept a close eye over his shoulder, but no one saw him enter “Property of Mistress Cara” via the touch screen. He couldn’t quite tell if his subconscious wanted him to be caught or not.

Heading home, his purchases in the large plastic bag, he was gleeful, thrilled, and hard as a rock.

Just a day later, as he walked up to her door, at commanded time, his mind was buzzing.  His collar, leash and nametag, still unworn, were the only things he carried with him in the plain brown paper bag. All that he’d been allowed to carry in his pockets were the keys to his home and enough exact change to get him here on public transport. His only remaining preparation, at her instruction of course, had been to make sure that all of his hair was trimmed. He’d started with a haircut and shave and then taken care of the rest nervously at home with scissors standing in the bathtub.

It felt very strange, walking up her street — a street he’d only ever driven on before. There weren’t even sidewalks, and he felt very much on display — like the neighbours were likely to call the police to report an unusual stranger. He didn’t even have ID on him – just a tag for a dog collar that would only inspire more questions.

But finally he was there. He knocked on the door after a deep breath Mistress was there quickly, an eager and devious smile on her face.

“Oh slut, I’m so glad you are here on time. I’d have hated to have to started off with punishment. Come, step inside the door.”

He stepped inside and then waited as she closed the door behind him.

She came in around him and faced him.

“This experience is going to be different for us. Especially for you. Are you ready to be my pet?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered with a dry mouth.

Turned Into A Puppy For His Mistress

She reached into the paper bag. “Do you accept this collar as a symbol of your status as a pet before me and do you accept of my ownership of you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Do you understand that you are to be a pet? Not a slave. Not a servant. A pet. MY pet. Mine to do with what I please.”

“Yes Mistress, I understand.”

“Excellent, pet. Strip.”

Wordlessly, without hesitation or second thought, he peeled off his clothes. The simple tan khakis, button down white oxford shirt, black boxers, white socks and Vans sneakers were all placed in turn in the black bag she held out as she watched, smiling and proud. In no time at all, he stood before her, bare.

“Legs spread. Hands behind your back. Lean forward.”

He complied, feeling the blush of his nakedness and her clear control, not to mention the arousal starting to send a tingle, inspiring a growing stiffness.

Her fingers traced his neck, then the leather of collar was against him. “With this collar, I make you mine. I accept your offer and I take you. You are mine. You are my pet.” Her enjoyment was palpable. “You may kneel now.”

He wondered, in that split second, if he should reply in agreement or thanks, but she continued even as he was lowering himself to the floor.

“Some ground rules to start: First, always remember that you are my pet – not my slave, not my submissive, not my slut, not my lover. You will not speak unless directly instructed to. ‘Yes’ or ‘no’ questions can be answered by nodding, though I can’t really imagine I’ll be asking my pet for much input on his treatment. You will not stand or get upon any piece of furniture unless directly instructed to. A pet’s place is on the floor, or in its cage. Do you understand so far, pet?”

He was suddenly very aware of the sensation of the collar around his neck as he nodded.

“Good. You will be gagged on occasion, as I choose, but do NOT mistake any absence of a gag as permission to speak. It most likely just means I have chosen to hear your moans or grunts more directly, or that I have some other use in mind for your mouth, but you should just be satisfied knowing that it is that way because I wish it.”

She paused, then turned and simply pulled upon his leash as an indication that he should follow her. She made her way to the living room, while he scrambled on all fours to keep up, until she turned and lowered herself into an easy chair.

“Pets do not wear clothing, and so you will not wear clothing while you are here unless I choose otherwise. If you are required to leave here or be in public, I will choose something for you to wear. Now, spread your legs a touch more, and hold still on all fours.”

He complied, taking a deep breath. She walked away for a moment, but was soon back carrying a small black bag. She knelt down behind him. Without warning, her hands were on his cock and balls, pulling and prodding at them.

“I’m glad to see you took care of your grooming. I’ll see how this goes, and determine later if I need to bring in someone else to groom you in the future, or whether you’ll be up to taking care of this yourself.”

As she spoke, her hands kept moving with precise, almost medical efficiency. She carefully guided his testicles, one at a time, and then his cock, through a plastic ring. She positioned it properly around the base of his manhood. She next guided his cock into the snug embrace of a small, clear plastic sleeve. He heard his breath almost as a whistle through his pursed lips.

Once he was drawn deep enough into it, she guided its widened base up to the first ring, slotting the two together. Small locks clicked as they closed.

“I know that some say that all pets should be neutered, but we’ll just start you with some chastity,” she said, now prodding the device upon him, laughing softly at her own joke.

Her left hand moved, and she held him and the device as she brought his next surprise closer.

“Now, I couldn’t really find the right thing for a puppy, so a pony tail will have to do for now.”

He felt the first touch of it: the soft, so lightly lubricated, tip of the butt plug. It was colder than he’d felt before, and with less give than he was used to. She pushed it in, deeper and deeper, slowly and steadily. The profile of the thing just kept stretching him wider. He started to moan softly, then silenced himself by biting his lower lip between his teeth.

“Short term pain for long term gain, pet,” she said, as though to comfort him. “This plug is nice and wide before it narrows at the base, so you’ll have so much less trouble keeping it in.” She giggled, but kept pushing.

When its widest part finally crested into him, she switched to pulling back, giving just a bit of tormenting resistance, as his ass now tried to suck the thing fully inside. When the base finally pressed against his ass cheeks, he felt a tickle against his thighs. She let go, and with a blushing shock, his mind finally resolved the puzzling sensations he’d felt as it had been inserted. It was heavy. He could feel not only the fullness of it, but also the weight of it. It was solid steel.

The previous tickling was intensified as his Mistress, her hands now free, grabbed the gleaming black tail flowing from the base of the plug. She flicked it back and forth, causing it to swish across the backs of his thighs. He could only imagine just how he looked at this moment, but the physical attention and his growing realization of his position before her was making him very keenly aware of how he was now feeling.

His cock was throbbing, wanting to stiffen, but trapped inside the too-small sleeve of the chastity device. Even with this lips closed, he could not contain the building groan.

“There is another gift I will give you, to assist you in learning your position. Whenever I instruct you to ‘sit up,’ I wish for you to kneel, with your thighs spread, your body upright, and your hands up in front of you, like a begging puppy. Now, sit up.”

He scrambled into position, feeling the motion torment his full ass. He glanced down as he spread his legs, seeing his cock looking tiny and trapped within the device. He felt a bit silly, lifting his hands up, letting his wrists loosen and his hands slump down, but he knew he could risk no hesitation.

His Mistress took one hand in hers, holding it softly for a second, before turning it over, palm up, and curling his fingers up into a fist. She slid a snugly fitting, padded leather mitten over his closed hand. She tightened the buckling closure around his wrist and slid a small lock in place, clicking it closed. As she repeated the process with his left hand, the fingers of his right instinctively tried to test their new enclosure.

Not only was there no way he could remove his hand from the mitt, but he could not even open his fingers. His hands had been effectively reduced to padded lumps at the end of his arms. The locks on them seemed redundant security at this point, but they were certainly making an impact on his imagination.

“Now, let’s help get you into the right frame of mind,” she said, jolting him out of his thoughts.

She held up a toy: a bright, translucent pink, floppy pink dildo, made of some kind of gel-like silicone. It wriggled obscenely in her hands, as she bounced it lightly, as though she was testing its weight. Then, with a swing of her arm, she tossed the toy across the room, where it bounced and landed in the far corner of the living room. She looked him in the eye as she spoke.

“Fetch.”

He wanted to just melt into the floor, but he reacted quickly. He turned, on all fours, and crawled his way to the toy. He had to move around the table and a chair. The weight and size of the plug were constant reminders of being stuffed and as he moved, his tail started to sway back and forth against his thighs. The chastity cage held him so securely, not unlike cock rings he’d word before, so he was very aware of his cock, even as it was trapped and kept in check.

On the floor, with his hands immobilized, he realised that the the only way he could fetch the toy was to use his mouth. He lowered his face to the floor, opened wide and closed his teeth onto it, near it’s middle. It was soft, feeling almost wet, and it jiggled constantly, the two ends flopping from each side of his mouth.

His humiliation was growing and he felt the blush in his cheeks burning red even before Mistress got the full sight of him returning to her. She laughed out loud, clapping her hands together with glee. She loved it so much, she immediately repeated the process, this time tossing the rubber cock under the dining room table. His tailed ass was high in the air as he lowered his head under a chair to fetch it.

Over and over and over, she played this game of fetch with him. His knees were becoming sore, his lips red, and he knew he was drooling more each time.  His cock and ass were aching with the duration of their teasing.

It was a humiliating but playful start to this new role, but it was just the start. After her fun of sending him scampering around after tossed dildos that just keep getting bigger, she filled his mouth with a large hard rubber bit gag in the shape of a dog bone. Then she began more training.

She spend hours working on his walking (on all fours), his sitting up, his kneeling – making sure he took the correct position quickly and accurately. She had developed her own system of hand signals and code phrases, half from the world of kink and half from watching dog shows.

As he was, of course, denied the gift of speech, she also thoughtfully taught him a few signals for him to communicate his most urgent needs to her. If he was hungry, he could kneel upright with his bound “paws” up in front of his mouth, and should he need to relieve his bladder, he could lift one paw up to his forehead. Contemplating these things, and all the others they implied, had his situation truly sinking into his thoughts.

By the end of that day, he was exhausted, mentally and physically, and his felt huge relief as he was shown the space where he would be sleeping. It was a custom cage/crate, large enough for him to curl up in on his side, but long so big that he’d be able to stretch out. Above the thin padding of the base was a solid wire cage, with one side that opened as the gate, with a nice new padlock available for locking.

He was told that there would be times that he would be permitted to sleep at the end of Mistress’s bed, or perhaps on a towel in the corner, but for now it was best he spend his first sleep in his proper home. He wanted to respond, to say he understood, even just to thank her, but the gag remained in his mouth as a reminder.

She did remove it, just before giving him a loving pat on the head and closing the cage. She smiled as she clicked the lock shut.

“You’ve been a good puppy today,” she said as she turned away and darkened the light.

The next morning brought just the first of what seemed to be daily challenges and realisations. He woke, a bit uncomfortable, a bit sore, his lips wet from drool around the gag, and with the sesually painful ache of the chastity device frustrating his body’s desired erection quickly replaced the more urgent desire from his bladder.

It seemed like forever before Mistress arrived at his cage to turn on the light. He greeted her with a smile and the immediately following with the raised paw signaling his desire to use the toilet. She was beautiful even at the start of the day, but she was obviously still up only just a while herself, wrapped in a simple rope with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands.

She laughed, and fumbled a bit with the key before opening the cage. He scrambled out and was crawling behind her, ready to follow her down the hall when stopped and saw her just pushing open the sliding door that led into the rear garden.

He raised his eyes to her in panic, but she merely smiled. “Don’t forget  your place, puppy.”

It was mortifying. He crawled outside, eyes darting around for watching eyes, but her garden was lined by fences and hedges. He mentally chose a corner and crawled over. His ache was screaming inside him, but his mind still panicked. He was locked in the cage, and didn’t have use of his hands. All he could do was to lift one leg sideways, hoping that the splattering stream wouldn’t soak him as much as it did the grass.

The stream was pure blissful relief, but it was also incredibly mortifying. No less so when he noticed Mistress standing in the doorway, laughing, barely able to hold her phone steady enough to take photos. He felt that he’d done a pretty good job, but Mistress still insisted on rinsing him down with the mercilessly cold water from the hose before allowing him back inside.

Turned Into A Puppy For His Mistress

His place just kept sinking in, with experiences like that. Not being able to speak really started to get to him, making him rethink his role and place and submission in this role. He seemed to be part companion, being allowed to curl up at her feet when she worked at the table with her laptop, and part amusing plaything, when she’d temporarily remove his chastity cage and have him hump a special plush dog toy she’d purchased, or even, on special occasions, her leg. She’d laugh until she nearly cried, stopping him as his cock started to leak, then she’d stuff him back inside the device to suffer.

Despite how it made him drool, she seemed to really like him in the gag, so he was rarely free of it outside of feeding times. His food and water were left in bowls on the floor, of course, except for when she fed him little treats for well-completed tasks or tricks, like when she had him balance the big floppy double-ended dildo on his nose for 15 minutes.

He was also confronted by what he would not be doing, like when she leashed him just outside of her dungeon, the door left open just a crack, so that he could hear every moaning gasp, as the submissive inside took the brunt of her crops and rope and dildos. All he could do was kneel and listen and ache, both wishing it was him at times and then thankful it wasn’t at others.

But there was a closeness because of the silence. She she would have him roll on his back so that he was open for her tickling and teasing touch, or when she would ruffle her fingers through his hair, or when she desired the weight of his head against her foot.

A month passed in no time at all, but it changed him. So much so that when she decided to mark the occasion with a garden party, his humiliation was muted compared to how much he wanted to please her and make her proud. He was shown off to her friends, with his biggest plug and smallest chastity cage. He did his tricks, and he did his best show walking at the end of her leash during the impromptu dog show, competing against the other two puppies brought along for competition.

Winning the blue ribbon made him insanely and completely proud.

He thought he’d be relieved to be free of the dog crate, the constant crawling and the complete, devastating wordlessness. But when she took it all from him and laid it inside the cage, telling he could stand up and go back to the previous service, or crawl back into the cage and be her pet once more, for a duration of her choosing, he knelt frozen, eyes darting back and forth, unable to even think.

Turned Into A Puppy For His Mistress

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